The Right Time
by Mackingtosh
Summary: How many near-death experiences does it take before you realize there might not be another chance? (A short emotional story that takes place after the storm. Chloe/Max pairing.)


**Author's Notes:** Story contains story spoilers, swearing, and some blood. No smut this time. Rated M because I really don't know how to rate my stories.

Been a while since I wrote something and longer since I played Life is Strange, so I'm sorry for any mistakes I made. I have a few ideas for continuing this story, but I'm inconsistent with updates so the story will be marked as complete for now. I'm pretty new to writing in general, so any comments, suggestions or criticisms you have are appreciated. I'll reply to reviews if I can and answer any questions you have.

Many thanks to my betareader Lilith Mitchell.

* * *

The headache was getting worse.

A throbbing, insistent pain occupied the forefront of her brain. It felt like her head was in a vice, winding tighter with each heartbeat, leaving black spots floating in her vision. She sat on the cold linoleum of the bathroom, her knees pressed up against her chest, arms wrapped around her head in a feeble attempt to block out some of the agony. The noise of the outside world seemed to reach her ears as if through water.

She felt wetness on her lips, and her fingers came away bright red when she wiped under her nose. Blood. More than usual. It seemed important, like she should focus on it. The crushing pain between her eyes made it difficult to think. Her shirt was damp, and looking at it, she realized it was also stained scarlet. Belatedly, she realized something might be very wrong.

The darkness came up like a wave, enveloping her in a rush and pulling her back down into the depths.

###

"Honey, I'm home!" Chloe called out in an exaggerated sing-song voice as the front door rebounded off the doorstop. She wore the same clothes as the day they left Arcadia Bay: jeans, tank top, leather jacket and her beanie, pulled down tight over her bedhead. She struggled through the narrow entrance sideways, carrying a bundle of grocery bags in each hand. She frowned slightly when there was no response, looking around. Max wasn't on the cheap queen bed that dominated the cramped motel room. The bathroom door was ajar, with no light on inside. No note indicating that she had gone out. The door had still been locked, and the window was latched from the inside. "Max? You there?" she called out, setting down the bags slightly too quickly and leaving the contents to spill out over the floor. She _knew_ she was being paranoid, that nothing was wrong, that everything was calmed down now, but she could still feel her heart thump harder in her chest. When there once again was no response, Chloe stepped over to the bathroom door, pushing it inward.

"Wha-?! Holy shit, Max!"

Max lay on the bathroom floor, blood covering her lower face and most of her t-shirt. Her skin was a stark white, and she was deadly still.

"Fuck!" Panic overwhelmed every sense, and she fell to her knees beside the unconscious brunette, reaching out with a shaking hand. Max felt cool to the touch and distinctly unnatural, but a faint pulse and short, shallow breaths promised life. "What do I do? What do I do?" Chloe pushed her fingers through her hair, grabbing fistfuls of blue locks. _Fuck, I don't know! Should I move her? I don't even know what's wrong with her!_

On the basis that soft sheets were probably better than linoleum tiles, Chloe decided to move her to the bed. She hooked her arms under Max's knees and back, lifting her into the air with a grunt. Max's head lolled back, brown hair strewn messily about her face. She was surprisingly light, but Chloe struggled to keep her head from bumping into the surroundings as she navigated the bathroom doorway. When she reached the bed, she carefully lowered Max to the sheets, trying to put her in a natural position.

Chloe crumpled against the side of the bed a moment afterwards, feeling tears well up behind closed eyes. "Come on, Max," Chloe's voice was low and unsteady. "You can't die now. We've been through so much shit together, and I…" her voice wavered and cracked, but she pushed on. "Fuck, I know it's selfish, but I _need_ you, Max. I don't think you know how much, and to be honest it scares me." She took a deep breath, and continued, the words coming faster now, more confident, as if they were pent up and finally spilling out. "Those five years that you were gone were the worst years of my life. I lost my dad. I lost my best friend. I was depressed and fucking furious at everything, you included. The only reason I survived was Rachel. When she disappeared… I thought about ending it. Six months without my only lifeline and I was losing hope. Everything sucked, so what was the point?"

"Then you showed up. Out of the blue, standing in front of my truck. You made it all better. You waltzed right back into my life and it was like we were kids again, you know? Running around exploring, solving mysteries, hanging out in my room. Someone I could talk to, someone I could trust - you have no idea how much that helped me. You couldn't see me before, so you don't know how much you changed me. Completed me." Chloe took another steadying breath, hesitated, and plunged onward. "There's something that I wanted to tell you, after the storm, but it didn't seem like the right time then, and I didn't know what to say, and I need to tell you now, before I talk myself out of it, in case- I need to tell you now."

"Max, I love you. I love you so much that it scares the hell out of me. I think I've been in love with you for a long time but I didn't realize until this week and there's so much more I need to tell you and that's why you - can't - die -" she punctuated each word with a punch to the side of the bed, slumping backwards as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "It's not fair."

A noise somewhere between a groan and cough came from the bed, and Chloe's head snapped up, scrambling to her feet a moment after. Max still looked like death, but her eyes were open and focused on Chloe.

"Chloe?" Max's voice was little more than a rasping whisper.

"You're awake!" Chloe leapt forward, remembering at the last moment that she _really_ shouldn't land on Max. She managed to fall to one side, bouncing slightly on the springy mattress and wrapping Max in a tight side hug, burying her face into her shoulder.

"Ow."

"Sorry, sorry."

Chloe loosened her grip, and after a few moments disentangled herself from the embrace, sitting upright on the bed.

Max attempted to clear her throat and asked in a somewhat louder voice, "What happened?"

Chloe was taken aback. "I just found you in the bathroom. You don't remember?"

Max frowned slightly, shaking her head. "It's all kinda hazy. I remember getting a headache - a bad one - then…" Her frown deepened, and her expression became uncertain. "Did… did you tell me something? Or did I hallucinate that part?"

"Tell you what?"

A faint blush bloomed on her pale cheeks. "You, uh, confessed something to me."

Chloe swallowed past the lump in her throat, simultaneously thrilled and terrified that Max had heard her confession. "Y-yeah. You didn't dream that."

Max smiled, an absurdly adorable sight, and reached out with a weak hand, finding Chloe's own and giving it a squeeze. "I'm glad. Means I didn't have to go first."

Chloe could practically feel her heart swell with joy. "You mean…?"

"I love you too, Chloe."

After a moment of stillness where it felt like her heart stopped, Chloe leaned in and met Max's lips with her own, melding in a short, sweet kiss. It was everything she had imagined it to be - and she _had_ imagined it quite a few times over the past few days. When they broke apart, breathless and flushed, Chloe grinned and Max gave a weak smile, both bathing in the afterglow of a kiss that was a long time coming.


End file.
